Those Summer Nights
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: What happened during some of those nights when Pam was still a human, and a brothel Madam. She wanted Eric desperately, but was it him, or his seductive life, that she truly desired? M for SMUT! Oneshot.


**A.N: **Set as in when Pam was a human and wanted to be a vampire with Eric. Written for the Descriptive Writing challenge on the TBFC forum thread.

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><p>"<em>Those Summer nights, seem long ago.<br>So is the girl, you used to call the Queen of New York City.  
>But if you send for me, you know I'll come, and if you call for me, you know I'll run. "<em>

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><p>oOo<p>

**_San Francisco, 1905_**

"You shouldn't have to hide," I said to him. My voice was quiet; barely a whisper, but I knew he would hear it. He would hear it even if I were stood a mile away from him, his senses were that adapted. "You are a creature like any other."

It was 1905 in Suburban San Francisco, and I, Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, was a brothel madam. I was getting older, now at the ripe age of thirty-four, and my life was drawing to an end. I had spent my twenties being reckless and breaking hearts; I never settled down with a man the way my parents would have liked me to. Now that I look back on my life, it would have been a better choice to have done what they pleased. Becoming the madam of a brothel of prostitutes had seemed like an excellent idea, several years ago. Back when _I _was still young and fruitful. But now, women were coming to me; women that I saw my younger self in – young, naïve and utterly reckless.

I had almost begun to accept how my life would play out. I would grow old, a pathetic old whore – I would die alone with nothing but my wealth from making profits of selling the bodies of my employees – or _merchandise_. I was beginning to deal with this fact, until Eric Northman walked into my life.

We had engaged in several nights of passion since he first rescued me from my attacker, on the streets of San Francisco. Now, after one particular night, I was asking him almost everything I could about his life, as a vampire. It was ridiculous such a thing could exist – but here he was, in front of me, real life proof.

We lingered together, splayed across the bed. I was clinging to him for all I was worth. "Eric?" I murmured, desperate for him to reply. He knew what I wanted – I asked him almost every time. I was seduced by his darkness; I wanted to be a part of that mysterious world. His fingers cascaded slightly clumsily over my face, rubbing away the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes. I couldn't see him well in the dim light of the brothel bedroom. It had been my idea to relocate to a bedroom in the brothel, when Eric had pressed his lips to mine in the foyer, in front of my prostitutes. It didn't matter, but I always felt a little wrong, showing any public affection in front of them. As I had told Eric a few weeks ago, "a merchant doesn't compete with her merchandise."

"My race has to hide, Pam," Eric replied in his low, soft voice, his breath tickling my cheek. "You are a unique kind, but most people wouldn't see well to vampires coming out into the open, admitting that we have killed and drained people for most of our existence." My lip quivered – I knew this, I had seen the other vampires draining one of my girls just a few nights ago – Bill, and Loretta, I think their names were. But it still came as a slight shock to me to know that this is how they had to _live_. It seemed that vampires were different across their species just as humans are. There were the vampires like Bill and Loretta that were killing and fucking everything they came across, and there were vampires like Eric, who had more control. Eric fed from me most nights we were together, but he healed me afterwards. He had assured me he wouldn't drain me dry.

But nonetheless, I was almost positive he was capable of doing that to someone, and he probably did do it.

There was a bang from above, and I heard the shrill giggle of one of the girls, followed by the low rumbling of a customer talking to her. The bang had startled me slightly, making me gasp, and the air I had caught in my chest deserted my lungs gratefully. My hand was pressed against Eric's broad chest, fighting between pushing him away and pulling him closer. Of course, I would never have the strength to do either of those things. I wanted to pull his wretched, wide palmed hands away from my face and walk away from this maddening situation. It was an inner battle I played with myself every time we ended up collapsing into bed together. I desperately wanted his life, and to be part of his life – but he didn't seem to want to make me a vampire, even though I _assured _him I would be the best fucking vampire he would ever have.

"I can feel your anguish, Pam," he spoke, right into my ear. "But you know, deep down, that this isn't what you want. You don't realise what becoming a vampire entails, and you don't realise what becoming a maker requires from me," he paused, and turned on his back to look at the ceiling. "I don't know how sure I am that I want that commitment, Pam."

I had told him this already, and he had given me the answer. But I said it again anyway. "So make me and leave me, I told you."

"And I told you why I won't do that!" He growled, animally. His piercing blue glare was fixated on me suddenly, but I wasn't scared of him, and he knew that. I sighed and looked away from him. After a few moments, I felt his body tensing beside me, and he began to shift closer to me, muttering sweet things into my ear. His words drove my muddled mind into frenzy, my insides melting to water. He pressed his lips against the skin below my ear, and my eyes blurred, my stomach somersaulting in my lower belly. "You react to me so quickly, Pam."

I closed my eyes, welcoming his touch. "Please, Eric-" He slapped a hand over my mouth, the movement so fast I hadn't had any chance to anticipate it. His face drew closer to mine.

"Just stop speaking," he whispered. I nodded, feeling my tears spilling over my eyelids, the warm wetness seeping down my cheeks and into his hand. He reached onto the bedside table for a handkerchief and wiped at my face gently. "You are very special, Pam." He put the handkerchief back on the table, and took my hand in his. "Pam?"

I curled my hand around his to show I was listening.

"I know you want this life, but you have to think about it, first. You are very different..." He paused momentarily, giving me the chance to take in his words, and make sense of them in my mind. "You are unusual, in an extraordinary way. I want you to embrace every aspect of life, and I want to enjoy the time we have together. Let's not argue about this, and take the little amount of time for granted." His free hand clawed around my waist and his fingertips pressed into my lower back. I was sure the skin burned there, even though no heat ran through his body.

My own hand found the back of his neck and I pulled myself towards him. "It's just so crazy. This new world I've only found out about recently…crazy…" I could see Eric's features dimly, and he was grinning.

"Make the most of it." There was a short movement, and Eric's mouth found mine, his arms wrapped around my torso, and I looped mine over his shoulders. I kissed him urgently, desperately, I was terrified I was going to lose him if I let go. I didn't breathe at all during the heat of the kiss, but it didn't matter. Even in the dark I could see the bright cerulean blue of Eric's eyes, right in mine, pools of seawater. The sea felt like a sign of freedom – the sea to me, felt like the vampiric life I painfully craved. But the freedom was locked away, viewable only behind barbed wire. Eric wasn't going to make me; he didn't want to be a maker. I vowed to myself, during that kiss, that I would continue to try and persuade Eric to turn me.

We didn't speak, we didn't need to. Our legs and arms tangled together in the complicated jumble, tongues dancing for dominance in this battle. When we broke apart, I was gasping for breath. Eric had rolled us over, so he was lying atop me, and I was pressed into the feather pillows. He stared down at me with hunger in his eyes, leaving an interlude of deathlike silence in the air; the only sound was me panting for breath. I let my hand trail across his forearm. I needed the comfort of my skin tasting his – my need for him was drastically overtaking the receding, sane part of my brain. He responded by leaning over me, his hands running down my waist and pressing to my thighs, pushing them further apart. In a sudden movement, we had flipped positions, and I was straddling his waist expertly. He bolted upright into a sitting position, and my eyelids fell closed as his tongue slithered across my collarbone, his hands running across my back.

"Eric," I moaned. My voice seemed far away, like it belonged to someone else. Suddenly, I felt a burning hatred for the thought of someone else saying his name. There was a stupid, seething jealous of some imaginary woman speaking his name so erotically. I was brought back to earth by the feeling of Eric's plentiful member pressing into my nether regions, hard and waiting. My blood boiled passionately.

He reached betwixt my legs and swirled his thumb around my clitoris, and at the same time, his cool fingertips glided down my spine, my back arching into his touch. My brain had stopped commandeering my actions; my heart had taken over. Or maybe it wasn't my heart, maybe it was just my reacting body. My hips were grinding into his hand, my head thrown back, my hair tumbling down my back. I wasn't a person anymore; I was just a mangled mess of sexual desire.

He leaned forwards, and ran his lips over my neck and my breasts. I felt his fangs grazing my skin softly, heard him lick his lips.

He drove me crazy.

Once again, he moved quickly, taking his hand away from that overly heated part of my body, and placing it on his own throbbing member. Within a few seconds, he had aligned his manhood with my opening, and plunged himself into the depth of me. A moan elicited from his mouth, and I looked down at him, his blonde head thrown back, his eyes half closed, and his fangs protruding ominously. He started to rock me back and forth, and my spleen exploded with desire. These were the real life fireworks, detonating behind my eyelids. Buildings were collapsing, oil-tanks were bursting – all because I, Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, was feeling the most magnificent and monstrous feelings, juxtaposed feelings. Whichever word held a more meaningful synonym I didn't know, all I knew was that this was the only place I wanted to be, with this beautiful creature wrapped around me, and inside me.

My eyes focused on his face, and I pressed my perspiring forehead against his. His shivering hands cascaded all over my back and I shuddered pleasantly. He was continuing to graze his teeth across my skin as I rocked backwards and forwards atop of him, moaning loudly. "Do it!" I begged, arching my neck out to him. "Do it, please!"

He bit into me, and I cried out at the sudden pain. I felt my blood seeping from the wound and straight into his eager mouth, and I transcended back into the pleasurable feelings I was having in my lower body. He flipped me over again, onto my back, and straightened up. He looked so animalistic, with his hands gripping my legs and holding them above my shoulders, as he pounded recklessly into me, my blood all over his face. I knew the wound was continuing to bleed at my neck, but this felt too good right now. I threw my hands above my head, succumbing myself to it, and he reached down and began the circling ministration around my clit again.

I almost screamed out in rapture, and I saw him smirk. I could feel myself losing control. I was getting closer and closer to that release, something that I had only ever achieved when Eric started visiting my bedchamber. He bent over me so he was fully atop me, and my legs were completely over his shoulders, bending me into a position Rubber Ruby would be proud of. He continued to thrust mercilessly into me, and now we were in this new position, I could feel the tip of his penis rubbing that strange spot inside me with every hit. His thumb continued to tap at my clitoris as he fucked me, and I knew I was getting closer.

Suddenly, he bit into another spot on my body, above my breast, and I felt the blood seeping out of my skin again and tumbling into his mouth. I screamed my climax, feeling my insides clenching tightly around Eric as I reached my orgasm. I became a pile of ecstasy underneath him, riding out the waves of my climax. He moaned into my skin a moment later, shuddered, and spilled his own orgasm inside me.

We lay there for several minutes afterwards in the position we were in, our arms and legs entangled in a confused mess. He was silent, licking at the wound he'd made above my breast softly, and I panted, feeling spent. We were together, in this moment. We were _one_. This should be wrong, because Eric was such a dark creature. There was a saying, "too much of a bad thing makes you mad." It was true – I was going mad with desire for Eric, and for his dark, seductive world. I felt tears on my face. Why was I crying now? Was I happy? Exhilarated, pleased with myself? Or was it because I was so overwhelmed with emotions, fear of the life I was getting myself into, fear of where I would end up and what people would think of me as a Madam? Was I frustrated with pouring my feelings into Eric because he wouldn't listen to me and accept my only request? Was it rage; was I angry with him because of the same reason? Angry, because he wouldn't give me the solution I craved – the solution which was to become part of his life. Was I disgusted with myself? Technically, I was infatuated with a dead person. Was it pure lust, was I blinded by my hormonal and sexual attraction towards Eric, my intimate desire for him that was literally filling me to the brim of a potential breakdown? Was I suffering? Was I hurt? Was I grieving the life I would never have? Did I need Eric, as the person I seemed closest to now? Was I so enthralled by these events that I was crying tears of joy, or…or love?

His hand clenched in my hair, and he retracted his fangs. He seemed to be feeling my mass of conflicting emotions through the blood bond we were developing. "Relax," he ordered, and lay his head across my bare breasts, closing his eyes.

oOo


End file.
